


Faith

by Sequesters



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Christianity-Typical Bigotry and Homophobia Mentioned, It's just Aziraphale and Crowley talking to each other, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 16:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sequesters/pseuds/Sequesters
Summary: Aziraphale, a churchgoing, God-fearing, middle aged human man who runs a bookshop, and Crowley, the (also human) face of the local atheist club, often lead the recruiting efforts for their respective organizations at the same events.  This lead to a strange and volatile friendship, which lead to this particular night of drinking inside of his bookshop. One scene of a human AU that I may never finish.





	Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe someday I will expand on this concept but for now....I was just Encouraged greatly by multiple people to put this up here as well as Tumblr. Thanks to Gale and Armae for that.

Crowley took a long draught straight from the bottle and swirled the liquid inside, staring at it through the murky glass in deep thought until it settled into a flat line.

“I still believe, you know.”

Aziraphale stilled at that, glass halfway to his lips.

“I _beg_ your pardon?” he asked, putting the glass back down and focusing his attention on his drinking companion.

Crowley was sitting up now, elbows resting on his knees, bottle held irreverently in one hand. But his casual stance was betrayed when he looked up at Aziraphale, amber eyes wide and vulnerable.

“I still…_believe_, Aziraphale,” he said slowly, as if he were confessing a sin, “You know. In…” he gestured upward.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open, slackjawed. “_God?”_ he whispered reverently.

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale’s thoughts race. “How?”

Crowley shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant despite his shaking hands.

“When I, erm, _fell from grace,_ as they say,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, “Everyone just _assumed_ that I didn’t believe anymore. They didn’t ask! They just looked at all the…_stuff_ I did, that made them think—oh, this boy isn’t a proper Christian, he does, y’know, this this and _this!_ Must mean he rejected God Himself, yup, we’re not gonna ASK him about it, let’s just ASSUME! Cause everybody knows that’s just what _happens_ when you’re booted from the church, right? You just…lose your faith, like a s-sock in the dryer, right?_”_

Crowley rolled his shining eyes as he took a drink from the bottle. “I really did believe, though, Aziraphale. I believed so much that it…it HURT to be cast out like that. Cast out from my church, my neighbors, my childhood _home…_”

Crowley covered his face with a hand, stifling a sob.

Aziraphale felt his own eyes grow watery. He had never heard the details of Crowley’s…excommunication, as it were. Nobody deigned Aziraphale worthy of the church rumor mill, for good or for bad, and that meant he only ever caught snippets of wildly conflicting accounts. This vague rant was the most information he had ever known, and his nosy mind was SCREAMING out for more, but at the same time…it may have been his tipsy state, but the whole thing was tugging at his heartstrings.

“I lost my faith in _Christians_ that day, no doubt about it,” said Crowley, staring down at his knees, “But not my faith in _God_.”

Aziraphale wiped his eyes discreetly, trying not to think about how much that hit home.

“W-well, don’t act so _surprised_ that nobody knew you still believed_,” _said Aziraphale, trying to keep some semblance of their normal banter whilst Crowley was baring his soul, “Joining up with the Atheist Organization isn’t exactly a _sign _of religious belief, my dear boy.”

“C’mon, Aziraphale, I was just a _kid _when they threw me out! Seventeen!” he said indignantly. “I was young, and I was _angry_, and I wanted more than ANYTHING to take that church down a peg. I saw my opportunity, and I took it, even if it meant hiding my more…_controversial_ secrets.”

Aziraphale nodded sagely. “Can’t have the atheists finding out about your faith.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, staring into the nearly-empty wine bottle, “My _faith_.”

He took a swig.

“They’d eat me ALIVE if they found out,” mumbled Crowley.

“You think so?” asked Aziraphale, “You said they LOVED you down there.”

“Aw, that doesn’t MATTER, because those guys are a bunch of WANKERS!” outbursted Crowley, “I only joined up with em because they hated the church just as much as I did, but all they do is give each other demon nicknames and talk SHIT about RELIGION! All religion, any religion, anybody with a belief system is FAIR GAME to these guys, and they are quick to turn on each other if somebody steps outta line. They don’t really care about KNOWLEDGE, or truth, or even HELPING people who have been hurt by the church-“ Crowley pointed at himself with both hands emphatically, “-they just care about-about FEELING SUPERIOR!”

Crowley slumped back again. “Just like all those holier-than-thou wankers in the church.”

The air between the two was charged with vulnerability. Aziraphale wasn’t drunk enough to fail to understand that this space, this fragile, secret-sharing space, was somehow precious, and one wrong move could destroy it forever. He had to be careful.

“Not a big fan of…organized religion, then?” Aziraphale said, tentatively.

Crowley actually snorted a laugh at that one.

“No, not _really_,” Crowley said, still smiling, “And I asked too many questions for it to like _me_, either.”

“Yes, I _did_ hear about that,” Aziraphale said, smiling as well, “I hope you know that that’s what you’re _known_ for, over there.”

Crowley pumped his fist into the air halfheartedly, and let it drop.

“That’s not why I was kicked out, though,” Crowley said quietly, all trace of mirth gone from his face quite suddenly.

Aziraphale’s heart beat fast in anticipation. “O-oh?”

“I wasn’t kicked out because I _asked too many questions _or _stopped believing_ or whatever shit they say when they talk about me.”

“What was it?”

“It’s because-“ Crowley choked.

Aziraphale leaned in a little.

“It’s because-ngk-because I’m-“ Crowley was struggling, struggling HARD, to spit whatever it was out. “I-I’m-“

Aziraphale reached out his hand, and put it on Crowley’s knee as moral support.

“…I’m _very_ gay,” Crowley admitted, with a trembling smile trying too had to be casual.

Aziraphale immediately withdrew it, fear sparking in his soul.

It was the wrong move. Crowley’s whole face, which had been fixated on Aziraphale’s reaction, drooped, and he leaned back against the couch, far away from Aziraphale, eyes fixed on his own knees.

“Yeah, that’s what I _thought_,” Crowley sighed, sounding disappointed more than anything else as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I almost don’t even _blame_ you, knowing how you’ve been _marinating _in that place’s homophobia for years. Big scary queer, coming to convert your sons to Satan’s worship, blah blah blah, I’ve heard it before. Maybe someday you’ll get over it, but if you don’t, I don’t care.”

Aziraphale sat with his hands in his lap, panicking. Oh, he had made a right _mess _of things, what could he _do_?

At least Crowley was still talking to him, from his guarded position over on the couch. Talking was good, talking gave him _time_ to come up with something.

“Parents caught me kissing that Raphael boy,” continued Crowley, “D’you remember him? His family moved away conveniently right afterward, ya might not. Kicked me out of the house the next day, m’parents I mean. But they wanted to preserve their precious fucking CHURCHGOER’S REPUTATION so badly, that they made sure that word never got out to anybody else. But joke’s on them!”

Crowley smiled an unsettlingly manic grin.

“That’s the only thing that’s saving me right now. Nobody else knowing that I’m g-gay, I mean. Not even the _bloody_ atheist club.”

“J-just me?” Aziraphale asked, putting a hand to his chest.

Crowley smiled, the serene smile of a man who knows that he’s probably fucked ,but just can’t bring himself to care at the moment. “Just you.”

Aziraphale’s slightly buzzed mind was, well…_buzzing_. Crowley was gay.

More importantly, Crowley was gay…_too._

And Aziraphale was really, really, REALLY kicking himself for pulling his hand away like that.

It was a very old instinct, to clam up in fear around other people he knew to be gay. He always had the sense that they could…find him out, somehow, to see into his soul if he looked at them, feel kinship in the way he touched them, and for his own survival? He couldn’t HAVE that.

But Crowley had no way of knowing that. All he saw was a middle-aged, devoted man of the church, pulling away in fear upon the reveal of his orientation.

Aziraphale usually would take this as a…necessary evil, if a gay person saw him as homophobic. That meant the disguise was WORKING, and could continue to ensure his survival. But this time, it felt like a _betrayal_. They might technically be on opposite sides, in this great religious debate, but this was _Crowley._

Crowley, the one who always struck up a conversation when they were recruiting at the same events.

Crowley, the only one who actually had his back when things went wrong.

Crowley, who had just shared two potentially life-ruining secrets with him, which were both things that they had in _common._

Aziraphale couldn’t cope with that. He made his decision, and downed the rest of his drink.

“Ohhh,” he groaned, face grimacing with reluctance, “I am _too._”

Crowley dropped the empty bottle, which thunked onto the rug. “Wh-what?”

“I’m GAY!” Aziraphale burst out, with more force than was probably necessary, “Queer as a three dollar bill! Gayer than a-a tree full of _monkeys _on nitrous oxide!”

Crowley snorted with laughter, despite his shock, and cracked open a new wine bottle.

“That’s a new one,” he noted with a smile, and took a swig.

“Oh, hand it OVER,” Aziraphale said tiredly, making a grabby-hand motion toward the bottle.

Crowley passed it over, and Aziraphale took a healthy swig, grimacing as he swallowed.

“I haven’t _told _anybody, _obviously_,” Aziraphale said, keeping an annoyed affect while his heart beat like a rabbit’s, quick in his chest, “I didn’t think I ever WOULD. I thought I would just keep it to myself for the rest of my life, marry a woman, and have children like God intended.”

Crowley scoffed, and reached out for the bottle. Their hands brushed as Aziraphale handed it back.

“But I-I didn’t _know_ Raphael,” Aziraphale rambled, the mix of adrenaline and alcohol doing absolutely nothing for his coherence, “I-y-you’re the only other one I _know_, who would ADMIT it anyway, and I-“ he took a deep breath, “I can’t LOSE you, by letting you think that I’m-I’m just another straight homophobic _bastard_ like them. I had to say _something._”

The silence hung over the two of them as Crowley took his time processing Aziraphale’s words, brow slightly furrowed in his inebriated state, until he lit up with a smile.

“How ‘bout that,” Crowley said slowly, “Coupla queers, hanging out in a bookshop together.”

“Two queers who _believe in God_,” slurred Aziraphale, jabbing his finger in the air at Crowley.

Crowley grimaced. “Point taken.”

The whole thing felt so _heavy, _heavy enough for them to fall silent for a full ten minutes while they continued to drink, abandoning the glasses and passing the bottle back and forth between each other.

“How can you still believe?” Aziraphale suddenly said, “After everything you have been through?”

Crowley shrugged. “Easy, really, when you feel-when you-you-ohh, this is going to sound _stupid_.”

Crowley put his face in his hands.

“What?”

“Oh…” Crowley flicked his eyes back up to Aziraphale’s eager face, and sighed. “You know how sometimes people would go off on mission, and come back with their stories like ‘I was CALLED to do this’ or ‘I was CALLED to do that’ and secretly in your mind you’re like ‘FUCK you, no you _weren’t_, you just decided to do that all by _yourself-_‘”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again.

“My point is, I could have left town when my parents kicked me out,” he said, leaning his elbows onto his knees again, “I could have gone anywhere else. California, maybe, Canada, Paris, the moon! But I chose to stay here. I told you before that it’s because I love causing trouble—and I do, don’t get me wrong—but that’s not really all of it.”

They had been drifting closer and closer to each other with each pass of the bottle, and now they were pressed up against the arms of their respective couches, less than a foot away from each other.

Aziraphale wordlessly passed him back the bottle, and Crowley took a swig.

“For lack of a…better term,” Crowley said, “I felt…_called_, to stay here. There was something in my gut that told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was _needed _here, and I am pretty certain that _She_ was the one who put it there.”

The way that Crowley said She so reverently, with a smile on his face like he was speaking about an old friend…that little pronoun swap he always did was never JUST to wind him up after all.

“It’s not all fun and games, being in this town,” Crowley continued, “I’m off on my own most of the time, don’t _really_ feel like I fit in anywhere, and I don’t even know what She expects me to do. But…I still feel like I’m going in the right direction, and She is leading me down the right path.”

“Even here? Now? Drinking with a member of the _Church_?” asked Aziraphale, incredulously.

Crowley nodded, slow. “Especially here, especially now, and _especially_ with you.”

If Aziraphale had ever felt the divine presence of God before, he felt it now, looking into Crowley’s eyes.

He looked down, clearing his throat, ready to make one final admission.

“I’ve been praying for you, you know,” Aziraphale said quietly, “For you to be…forgiven. You’re…a good person, and you don’t deserve all of that _nasty _gossip._”_

The silence dragged out so long that Aziraphale wondered if he shouldn’t have said anything.

“That’s funny,” Crowley said carefully, “Because_ I’ve_ also been praying for _you.”_

Aziraphale was taken aback by that.

“Wh-what-w-well, that’s-that’s very _kind _of you,” he stammered, face turning red, “But…what _for_?”

This time Crowley reached out, across the gap between the couches, and grasped Aziraphale’s hand with his own. Aziraphale let him.

“I’ve been praying,” Crowley said, voice as soft as his touch, “That one day…you might finally see the light.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I'm working still on Trouble in Álfheima as well as some more GO oneshots, so hopefully you will see that from me in the coming....lets be realistic...weeks. See you then!


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